


i'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all

by WooziOveralls



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Homophobia, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Period-Typical Homophobia, Star-crossed, alternative universe - 50s, hence, ish, not exactly historically accurate but i TRIED, wonwoo is cheating on someone to be with gyu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21882721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WooziOveralls/pseuds/WooziOveralls
Summary: Wonwoo's bare feet pad softly against the cold tile as he enters the kitchen and wraps himself around Mingyu’s back. He presses a couple of kisses to Mingyu’s spine knobs and lays his head against the solid warm skin, letting his glasses poke Mingyu uncomfortably.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu
Comments: 8
Kudos: 97





	i'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhh i was writing the next part of the heroes au but this just kind of....happened......  
i wrote part of this during a history lecture so it ended up being set in the 50s in the usa and after the korean war. i'm not a historian and this fic was written on a whim, so please excuse any historical innacuracies, i tried to stick to the era it is set in, but changed some things around bc fiction h hhhhhh
> 
> i had [this](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0exDuOKrhNmEnGj9WMQhCp?si=Gh4ICpwHQb6ICyw9J9p7Ww) playlist on repeat while i finished the fic so you could check it out to get in the mood

Mingyu wakes up to warm rays of sunlight on his face. The thin curtain has drawn back slightly to let in the light during the night. Usually, that would make him start his day off on the wrong foot, would make him walk around the city with a metaphorical storm over his head, dampening his mood throughout the entire day.

Key word: Usually.

Today, the sunrays only draw his attention to the man laying down on the other side of his bed. Smooth pale skin exposed to the cool summer morning air and adorned with the occasional hickey retelling the previous night’s story. Dark wavy hair is splayed around on the pillow underneath it, traces of previous bleaching obvious at the very tips of it; aside from that, the black locks look just as soft as they feel under Mingyu’s hands. Hands which stretch out almost unconsciously to touch his boyfriend’s hair softly.

The touch, of course, stirs the man up, making him turn his head around with sleepy, nearly closed eyes. The sight of Jeon Wonwoo ruffled from sleep, with his face just the tiniest bit chubbier and streaked with pillow marks, makes Mingyu’s heart skip several beats. He is so dumbstruck he keeps his arm stretched out, still playing with Wonwoo’s curls mindlessly as his eyes scan his boyfriend’s expression and trail down to his chest, littered with hickeys much like them expansion of his back.

“Eyes up here, soldier,” Wonwoo mutters in English, catching sight of Mingyu’s wandering eyes. Mingyu startles at the rumble of the man’s voice, much deeper in the morning than it usually is. Finally, he retracts his awkwardly stretched out hand, much to Wonwoo’s dismay, and smiles softly, almost apologetic.

“Sorry about the hickeys,” Mingyu replies, in Korean, around his smile, clearly not apologetic enough about the offending purple bruises. “They look a little painful this time.”

Wonwoo hums in agreement and twist his body around to face him, exposing himself completely in the process when the sheets draw back with the movement. He doesn’t seem to mind the exposure, though; he only looks at Mingyu with sleepy eyes before answering, also in Korean, “You know I don’t mind them, Gyu.”

The implications were there, as always. The implication that they serve as tangible pieces of memory for Wonwoo, even if just for a couple of days after they are forced to part ways. The implication that they are Wonwoo’s certain way of rebelling against the situation he was forced onto. The implication this morning is one of a few rare ones.

Mingyu doesn’t say it, doesn’t allow himself to think it. If he doesn’t think about that, he can pretend he and Wonwoo are just another happy couple living in a shitty apartment together and that this is how they always start off their weekends. Instead, he smiles, top canines snagging onto his dry bottom lip, “Yeah, I know.”

Silence blankets the both of them, and they gladly accept it. Silence is never awkward between them. The rareness of their moments together means that just being in each other’s presence is more than enough on most days. Mingyu takes the silence as an opportunity to scoot ever so slowly closer to Wonwoo, and to bring a hand up to his waist. He lets his thumb draw random patterns against the warm skin.

Mingyu lets the heavy door go behind him and the loud noise earns him a few angry stares from students hard at work in the scattered desks in the campus’ library. He mutters an apology to the scowling librarian and makes the best attempt possible at shaking his jacket off of rainwater before walking further into the building. His bag feels ridiculously heavy with his textbooks and the sky is pouring so, of course, today was the day he didn’t have his umbrella.

His luck doesn’t seem to be getting much better, though, because the library looks to be completely full and, while Mingyu is acutely aware of the looming doom of finals week, this is just ridiculous.

Thankfully, after a bit of walking around and a bit of looking-into-every-single-nook-and-cranny, he finds a smaller table occupied by only one person. A guy who doesn’t look much older than himself, slouched poorly over a book with round glasses pushed far against his face. Mingyu sets his bag on one chair, hoping to catch the guy’s attention and ask for permission because having his table invaded by random people is one of his pet peeves, so he is extra mindful of that, but the man doesn’t budge. _Weird_.

He doesn’t want to call out in case the guy is just as desperate as he feels about his own finals, so Mingyu simply seats himself on one of the chairs opposites to him and pulls out his chemistry textbook and a messy notebook full of notes

A long while passes before Mingyu finally takes a break, lifting his head up from his notes to stretch and take a look around. Without missing a beat, his eyes immediately land on the man, and he frowns. He doesn’t seem to have moved much, if at all, from his previous position, but seems much more frustrated at whatever it is that he is reading. To add to his previous state, the man is now muttering to himself, almost as if reading the book out loud.

Mingyu can’t help but to stare at him for just a little longer. Maybe too long, though, because the man looks up with an intimidating glare in his sharp eyes. He definitely felt Mingyu’s stare and the thought of that makes blush rise high on Mingyu’s cheeks.

“Hi,” He offers weakly and receives no response. Today has been a bad enough day and there is nothing the man can do to make it much worse, so Mingyu presses on because a new friend might make the day better, if nothing else, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around. I’m Mingyu Kim, what is your name?”

The man’s glare seems to diminish slightly, and he just stares at Mingyu for a little longer. It is _so_ awkward. Ridiculously awkward. Mingyu is considering getting up to try to find another table when the man finally speaks up, in a heavily accented, deep voice, “My name is Wonwoo Jeon. I—I just moved here.”

Mingyu raises his eyebrows. Immigrants aren’t rare in Chicago, per se, but it is always interesting to meet a new one. Especially someone who is Asian like him since immigrant laws have been so erratic ever since the war ended. “Where are you coming from?” Mingyu asks, making sure his words are well enunciated. If there is one thing he learned when he met Minghao, it is that mumbling in English makes absolutely no sense for someone who is new to the language and it only makes them feel more frustrated. So, he does what he can to not be a dick.

“Oh, um… I’m from Korea,” Wonwoo clears his throat, “In the South…South Korea.”

_Oh, neat._

Mingyu can’t help the way his smile widens as he speaks the next sentence in the language he has practiced so well at home, “My parents are from Korea. I’m not good with geography, but I think they were born in what is now South Korea, too. Anyang-si, I think.”

At that, Wonwoo’s interest seems to peak. His eyes widen almost comically behind the round glasses and a small smile plays at his lips, “I’m from Changwon-si. Your Korean is really good.”

Mingyu struggles not to visibly preen at the praise, “I speak it at home with my parents and there are a couple of Korean students here.”

“Ah, I haven’t met them yet, I guess,” Wonwoo says, finally closing the book in his hands and pushing it aside.

“You’ll just know it when you meet Seokmin and Soonyoung. They’re the loudest guys on campus, it’s hard to miss them.”

Wonwoo’s smile widens, “I’ll have to make sure to keep an eye out, then.”

Wonwoo has almost fallen back asleep under the warmth of the sunrays on his back and his boyfriend’s soft caresses, but it is getting late in the morning, so Mingyu brings both hands up to cup Wonwoo’s face and presses a delicate kiss against his lips. “Wake up, hyung. We should go eat something.”

As if on cue, Wonwoo’s stomach rumbles loudly, making him smile sheepishly, “I was going to say I didn’t want to eat, but my stomach caught my lie.”

Mingyu laughs softly, almost a chuckle, breath fanning over Wonwoo’s face. “Yeah, I heard it,” He says, finally lifting himself from the bed and stretching his arms above his head. Wonwoo follows his sluggish movements with sleepy eyes still, full of adoration and _more_. “What do you want to eat, hyung?”

Wonwoo ponders for a few seconds before answering around a yawn, “Do you have eggs and bacon?”

“Of course, but…” A teasing smirk grows slowly on Mingyu’s lips, “Eggs and bacon? That’s awfully American of you, hyung.”

Wonwoo groans and chucks a pillow at his boyfriend’s face, “Shut up and cook for me.”

“Gladly, my love.”

Their first date is at a drive-in movie theater. You know, real classy. A parking lot full of horny teenagers and college goers too busy going down on their partners to pay attention to the shitty movies being projected onto the enormous screen. Such was not the case for Mingyu and Wonwoo, though. The windows of Mingyu’s car were not tinted, of course, and they would rather stay out of trouble’s way. So, they just sit there together with a large bucket of popcorn in between them, feeling as if the car is their own bubble.

“Do you guys have drive-in theaters in South Korea?” Mingyu asks in a whisper, like much of their conversations have been throughout the night. No one would hear them if they spoke any louder, but somehow the moment felt delicate. They were watching a move and people shouldn’t talk during movies.

Wonwoo turns to look at him, face half lit by the movie screen, and answers in a low whisper, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen any there. Even after the war.”

Mingyu hums comprehensively, holds his free hand out for Wonwoo to hold, and turns back toward the screen.

Suddenly, there are loud knocks on all the windows, startling the pair inside into letting their clasped hands go. The perpetrators don’t look much older than 17, and their faces are adorned with smug little smirks when who Mingyu assumes is their leader knocks a second time. When the boys know they have got the attention of the couple, the leader speaks up, “Having a fun time, ladyboys?”

The taunt makes Wonwoo’s face flush with shame and he wants to hide, to reach for the backseat of Mingyu’s car and use the throw he keeps there to cover his head and hope it is enough to make the teenagers go away. When he looks over at his boyfriend, Mingyu has a calm expression on his face, if only slightly surprised. He looks nonchalant, but Wonwoo can see the obvious tension in his shoulders; Mingyu’s fight-or-flight instinct is kicking in, just like Wonwoo’s.

“Well, yeah, we are,” Mingyu answers calmly. “Would have loved it if your brother was here, too. Unfortunately, he was too sore to sit down in the car for too long.” Wonwoo feels his lungs constrict, trapping the air inside. He watches as the kids’ expressions turn sour. Mingyu obviously has struck on a sensitive subject.

“You fuckin’ faggots,” The kid on Wonwoo’s side hammers a first against the metal of the door, startling him, “I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

“Won’t change the amazingly fun night we had with your brother,” Mingyu retorts smugly but his right hand reaches for the gear, ready to make a run for it. Thankfully, the teenagers seem to collectively decide the _faggots_ aren’t worth their time anymore and leave with a couple punches and kicks delivered to the outside of Mingyu’s blue car.

Both men sit still for a minute or two. The only sound that fills the inside of the car is the low volume of the radio and Wonwoo’s rapid breathing. He feels his heart hammering against his chest, and even jumps when Mingyu’s hand reaches for his. “It’s okay,” Mingyu reassures quietly, intertwining their fingers, “We’re okay. They’re gone.”

Wonwoo nods but doesn’t say anything. He lets the familiar yet foreign feeling of Mingyu’s warm hand on his own bring his heartrate down. When the silence has stretched on for too long, Mingyu speaks up again, softly, “Do you want to get out of here? We—we still have this big bucket of popcorn to ourselves.”

His playful tone makes Wonwoo smile, and he nods, finally looking up again at his friend –boyfriend? — “Yes, please.”

Mingyu smiles and moves his hand, still intertwined with Wonwoo’s, to the gear. They swiftly leave the parking lot and are soon driving on a relatively empty highway. Mingyu doesn’t let go of Wonwoo’s hand, even when the man h as stopped shaking and when their grip turns a little sweaty. Wonwoo is thankful for that.

They turn into a side road and come to a stop by an open field. Mingyu stops the car and turns to look at Wonwoo, “Here is where we shall continue our date night,” He says in English, trying to impersonate a British person and failing horribly. It draws a chuckle out of Wonwoo. “If you want to, of course.”

Wonwoo takes a look around the open field. It looks completely empty and the bright, full moon is the only thing illuminating the wide expanse of it. This is probably the closest they can get to privacy while going out, so they might as well take it.

“Of course I do.”

They dig out the fleece blanket from the backseat and spread it over the hood of Mingyu’s car, setting their jackets as makeshift pillows to make an improvised bed. Mingyu brings the bucket of popcorn out and sets it in the middle of the blanket. The night is quiet, and the sky is relatively clean of clouds.

The night is quiet for several moments but Mingyu can’t concentrate on the stars above them like his friend is doing. Instead, he lets his gaze drift to Wonwoo’s side profile, beautifully illuminated by the moon.

This is the first time he’s allowed himself to truly bash in Wonwoo’s beauty instead of making do with little side glances stolen in a rush. Wonwoo is the most handsome man Mingyu has ever seen in his life.

He must have been staring for a little bit too long, because Wonwoo takes notice of it and turns to meet Mingyu’s eyes. Mingyu doesn’t budge, though. Not this time. They are on a date; they shouldn’t feel scared of doing things every teenager does out on a date. Before he is able to stop himself, Mingyu finds himself asking quietly, “Can I kiss you?”

Wonwoo responds with a nod and suddenly their lips are meeting in a soft kiss. It feels different from all the kisses that have come before, and Mingyu finally understands why people like doing this so much. They part with a sigh from Wonwoo, but Mingyu doesn’t want the kiss to end, so he dives right back in to connect their lips again, and again.

They are both are sporting face-splitting smiles when they finally do part, cheeks flushed hot and red, and butterflies wildly rearranging their insides.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” Mingyu asks breathlessly.

“Yeah, I’ll be your boyfriend.” Wonwoo answers, a promise made under the stars and sealed with the moonlight.

Breakfast is almost ready when Wonwoo leaves the bedroom, bare feet padding softly against the cold tile as he enters the kitchen and wraps himself around Mingyu’s back. He presses a couple of kisses to Mingyu’s spine knobs and lays his head against the solid warm skin, letting his glasses poke Mingyu uncomfortably. So

“I’m almost done here, but I need to move to put the food on their plates, baby,” Mingyu says calmly but receives no response. He wiggles a little in Wonwoo’s arms and hears a groan from him, “Fine,” Before his arms unwrap from Mingyu’s middle and finally allow Mingyu to get them both plates for the food.

Wonwoo doesn’t wait for instructions and sets the small table for the two of them and they sit facing each other. The steam wafting from the hot food makes Wonwoo’s glasses fog up and he groans in annoyance; he removes the offensive apparel and places it on the table and the movement catches Mingyu’s eye. The glinting metal of the round frames looks slightly unfamiliar and, while Wonwoo digs into the food like a starving man, Mingyu stretches one hand out to grab the glasses and get a better look at them. Wonwoo catches the movement right away and, before Mingyu can say anything, he whispers, “My old pair broke, these are new.”

“Ah,” Mingyu mutters dumbly. He swallows thickly and places the glasses back on their previous spot, “They look—fancier.”

Wonwoo doesn’t hesitate, but his voice comes out small, “Elizabeth’s father got them for me.”

Although he already suspected, Mingyu still exhales shakily. He hates hearing her name, but he knows saying so is unfair to Wonwoo. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice it last night,” Mingyu comments; he doesn’t know what he is aiming for with it, but he hopes it makes the mood lighter. He doesn’t want to spend his limited time with Wonwoo in tension.

Wonwoo hums, “You were a bit busy tearing my clothes off.”

The comment makes Mingyu snort and a smile pulls at the corners of his lips, “Yeah, maybe that was why.”

Elizabeth was their classmate from college. She was, in Mingyu’s humble opinion, the definition of privileged white American girl, but she wasn’t racist like her peers, and she seemed to genuinely want to be friends with the international students, so he didn’t mind her all that much.

Aside from their closest friends, Elizabeth was the first person to find out about their relationship.

She hadn’t meant to see anything, and they had also not meant to end up making out in the college parking lot. She had been looking for Wonwoo specifically, though, and rightfully assumed he would be in Mingyu’s car.

Mingyu remembers the unadulterated panic in Wonwoo’s eyes and the way his hands tightened on the nape of his neck when she had knocked on the window, and remembers the tears that welled up in his own eyes because all he could think was “_This is it, this is how we die_.”

Thankfully, Elizabeth had been comprehensive enough. She still looked unnerved and held onto the cross around her neck tightly as if protecting herself from a demon, but she had promised not to tell anyone because it was none of her business who they wanted to kiss.

Mingyu pinpoints that exact evening as the moment he realized they would never have anything close to what their straight friends had. That evening when he held Wonwoo tight in his own bed while the other shivered out of what could only be described as terror for their future, both as a couple and as individuals. He never wanted to see the love of his life scared to that point ever again. He whispered promises into Wonwoo’s jet black hair, of protecting him, of protecting them both. He told himself he would do anything to make their life together a good one.

Wonwoo finishes his breakfast first and is halfway into his cup of coffee when Mingyu finishes his. For a couple of minutes, they just stare at each other, certainly sharing the same thoughts of how little time they have together, even in a longer weekend like this. It doesn’t diminish the love in their eyes when they gaze at each other, but it certainly adds a little accent of sadness to them.

Finally, Wonwoo breaks the silence by clearing his throat. He picks up his glasses and places them back onto his sharp nose, giving Mingyu a crooked smile. “I have a couple new books for us to read,” He reveals shyly. Mingyu perks up immediately.

One of his favorite things to do with Wonwoo is reading together. From the days they met when Wonwoo still struggled with the workings of the English language, he now reads much faster than Mingyu himself, but his habit of snuggling up behind his boyfriend to read along became the highlight of their time together. Much more than sex, it feels intricately intimate in Mingyu’s eyes.

Wonwoo takes his silence as an encouragement to go on, “They are in my bag. One is called The Haunting of Hill House, and the other is called A Separate Peace.” He gets up from his chair and moves in the direction of the only room in the apartment. Mingyu hears shuffling from inside and a heavy thud accompanied by an undignified noise of surprise. A couple of seconds later, a disheveled Wonwoo resurfaces from the room with two books in his hands. He places both in front of Mingyu and pushes his glasses up his nose, “So, what do you think?”

It takes Mingyu a couple seconds to divert his eyes from his boyfriend’s excited expression to the book covers. Wonwoo is a bookworm by nature and his passion for literature makes Mingyu fall just a little deeper in love with him every time.

The cover for one of the books displays a house bigger than Mingyu could ever dream of living in, but the surroundings of it are decrepit and the trees are bare, making the cover much more spooky than luxurious. The other book’s cover is entirely monochrome in blue, except for a beige ribbon that runs through the middle of the image and displays the title, “A Separate Piece.” Mingyu doesn’t realize he has said it out loud until Wonwoo’s voice breaks through his thoughts.

“I heard from Minghao it is full of implied homosexuality,” Wonwoo explains, sounding almost giddy with the thought. It makes Mingyu smile.

“He’s a nerd. You’re a nerd.” He directs the last part to the man in from of him and receives a smile in return.

“I won’t deny that. Do you want to read that one?”

“Mhm, I am always ready for implied homosexuality.”

When Wonwoo’s parents, find out, all hell breaks loose.

It is late summer and Mingyu hadn’t meant to kiss Wonwoo at the porch of his house. Both boys missed the lights on the second floor when they rushed for cover from Mingyu’s car to the front door. They had also been on a high from their date at the roller rink (empty in the after-hours thanks to Seokmin’s generosity in lending the pair his keys to the place) and had momentarily forgotten where they were.

With wet hair from the rain and cramped ankles from the stupidly sized rollers at the rink, Mingyu and Wonwoo kissed like they were alone in the universe.

The euphoria quickly gave way to bone-chilling terror when the door opened, though.

Wonwoo’s father was red in the face, rage coloring the entire skin from the tips of his ears to the space above his shirt collar. Wonwoo’s mother looked caught between rage and disappointment, and Mingyu felt his boyfriend’s hand tighten around his own seconds before the boy’s father lifted him up by the collar of his shirt. The man bellowed out curses Mingyu wasn’t fluent enough in Korean to understand, or maybe the words were just too jumbled amid the anger to ever make sense at all.

“Put my boyfriend down, pl—please, sir,” The soft words that had left Mingyu’s mouth stopped Wonwoo’s father in his tracks, but not for the better. His eyes (so, so similar to the ones Mingyu had fallen in love with) zeroed in on Mingyu and the man’s big hands let go of his son’s collar in favor of pushing Mingyu. The strength put behind the attack was enough to send him toppling back a couple of steps, but Wonwoo’s father did not seem satisfied enough with that.

“You—you fucking faggot,” the man emphasized in English, emphasizing his point with another shove, and another. He continued in Korean, “We have accepted you into our home on more than one occasion and have even fed you, and you—you decide to turn my eldest son into a shame,” he spits and it lands on Mingyu’s cheek, “Into a fucking faggot just like you.” The shove that comes with the last sentence is the strongest yet and sends Mingyu flying down the couple of steps of the porch and onto the muddy grass of the garden.

Mingyu felt paralyzed with fear.

He could only watch when the man stepped forward and stared him down, like Mingyu is worth less than an insect. “Worthless American faggot,” the man spat out one last time and turned around. Wonwoo had attempted to step in his boyfriend’s direction but was forced to take a couple of steps back with a shove from his father. His mother had carefully put one arm around his waist and started guiding him towards the open door. Wonwoo’s pleading, panicked eyes are the last thing Mingyu had seen before hid father has slammed the door shut, leaving Mingyu out in the rain, scared for his boyfriend’s life and his own.

He didn’t hear anything from Wonwoo for two weeks after.

It was the longest they had gone without contact until then, and it left a hole in Mingyu’s chest. He didn’t know if Wonwoo was okay. He didn’t know if Wonwoo was _alive_.

Finally, though, after two weeks of fear and avoiding his parents’ inquires, a call comes to the house phone, and Mingyu rushes to pick it up (another thing he had been doing, in the hopes he would hear the voice he longed to hear so much). To his surprise and happiness, the voice that greets his white sounding ‘Hello’ is no one other than Wonwoo. Mingyu almost screams out of sheer relief at the deep tone he had grown to love so much.

“Wonwoo—my love—” Mingyu didn’t know what to say, but tears started surging in his vision. Before he can get anymore words out, Mingyu is sobbing rather pathetically against the phone receiver, “I didn’t—didn’t know what happened to you.”

Whatever Wonwoo was about to say gets lost in the noise, and he sounds choked up when he mutters, “I’m okay, love.”

Neither boy says anything for two, five, ten minutes while Mingyu’s sobs subside. When his breathing seems to be under control, Wonwoo whispers into the receiver, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Mingyu asks, his voice rough from crying, “I should be apologizing for kissing you where your parents could see, I—”

“They’re forcing me to get married.”

The words send ice cold pricks into Mingyu’s veins; his voice dies out in his throat and he feels his lungs constrict. It takes him well over a minute to strangle out, “To whom?”

It takes Wonwoo another minute to answer, in a small voice, “Elizabeth."

Mingyu inhales sharply, feels the sharp dread fill his lungs and drown him. He doesn’t realize he’s speaking again until the next words leave his mouth, “What about us, hyung?”

At that, Wonwoo chuckles dryly, “Us? Gyu, my parents wanted to disown me,” Mingyu hears his boyfriend huff, “Our relationship is important to me, but my father almost killed me and—”

“He did what?”

“— you’re worried about how you fit in this?”

Mingyu shakes his head, “I’m sorry, my love, I—”

Wonwoo doesn’t stop talking, “You’re being so selfish asking about our relationship when—”

“Did your father beat you up, Wonwoo-hyung?” Mingyu asks, louder this time, and Wonwoo finally stops talking. The silence is deafening for a few seconds, before Wonwoo mutters a quiet, “Yeah. He did.”

Mingyu settles himself on the large windowsill, propped against his (only) fluffy pillow. He asks for Wonwoo to fetch a blanket from his bed and pulls the man against his chest with the least amount of finesse the can muster. Wonwoo topples over with a giggle leaving his lips. After a couple of minutes of rearranging long limbs, he is snuggled comfortably against Mingyu’s chest; he opens the chosen book on the prologue and takes a deep breath.

He doesn’t read the words aloud, neither does Mingyu. Mingyu learned early on in their relationship that Wonwoo values comfortable silence above any sort of conversation, so he fights against his talkative nature whenever he is with his boyfriend. It was incredibly difficult to suppress his need to fill the silence with _noise_ when they started dating, but he welcomes the quiet now. Has learned to appreciate the quiet sighs that leave Wonwoo whenever something expected happens in the book, the way Wonwoo’s hand tightens around his own when he reaches an intense part, and the way he leans his head against Mingyu’s chest whenever he reads a happy or heartwarming sentence.

In all honesty, Mingyu spends more time paying attention to his boyfriend than to the books they read, and he doesn’t mind it at all.

He knows he has spaced out when Wonwoo butts the crown of his head against his chin. “What are you thinkin’ about?”

“You,” Mingyu answers without hesitation, making Wonwoo huff out a laugh.

“I’m right here, you don’t need to think about me.”

“I’m always thinking about you,” Mingyu continues, interlacing the fingers on his right hand with Wonwoo’s, “It’s a little hard to stop.”

Wonwoo tells him the whole story the next time they meet up, in a McDonald’s parking lot at two in the morning after Wonwoo has snuck out of his house to avoid anymore punishment for meeting up with his boyfriend. Mingyu had planned to act cool and collected, but he couldn’t help the way his body _screamed_ at him to just run towards the boy and hold him until the sun started rising in the sky. He didn’t do exactly what he wanted, but his arms opened almost on instinct to give Wonwoo a slot against his chest.

Based on the tone in their conversation from the day before, Mingyu had expected to receive a slap to the face, or to at least have his hug request ignored. Wonwoo, instead of showcasing his previous emotions, had simply walked into Mingyu’s arms and rested his head against Mingyu’s shoulder, making himself small.

“I’m so scared,” was all Wonwoo whispered at first, breath fanning on Mingyu’s skin.

“I know,” Mingyu replied.

They moved to the backseat of Mingyu’s car – the closest thing they could have to privacy – and Wonwoo explained everything that had happened in the past few weeks. He looked terrified just talking about the way his father had smashed his head against the wall and how the blood was still there, how his mother hadn’t even looked him in the eye for a whole week, and that she still would not talk to him, even after Wonwoo had agreed to marry Elizabeth. He had lifted his fringe to point to the bandaged up cut he was left with to remember the incident by, and Mingyu had stretched one hand to touch the ban

“Please, don’t cry,” Wonwoo had asked tearfully when before Mingyu had even realized the tears running down his cheeks, “I’ll cry too, and I don’t think I have water left in my body.”

Of course Wonwoo would have tried to joke at a time like that.

Mingyu had laughed humorlessly and leaned forward, touching his forehead lightly against his boyfriend’s. They had stayed in silence for a couple of minutes before Mingyu spoke up softly, almost secretive, “I can’t promise everything will be okay, but I can promise to be here for you, for us.” Wonwoo had huffed bitterly at that, “I love you more than anything.”

“I love you, too. Forever.”

Wonwoo only realizes just how sleepy he is getting when he feels Mingyu’s chest shake with laughter under his head. He turns his head slightly to look at his boyfriend’s smug expression and frowns, “What?”

Mingyu shakes his head, smiling adoringly down at him, “You have been on the same page for the past ten minutes or so.”

The frown doesn’t dissipate, “Did you count?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu laughs, pushing the hair back and away from Wonwoo’s forehead to press a kiss on the scar near his hairline, “We could play something.”

“No, no. I want to stay like this with you.”

Mingyu hums, “Let me get up for a second to make us some coffee then, my love.”

Wonwoo groans in displeasure at the prospect of having to move but complies anyway. “The things I do for love, honestly,” he grumbles, “I can’t believe you’re making me get up.”

“What are you going to do about it, huh? Push me off a tree branch?”

“I might,” Wonwoo hums, watching Mingyu move into the small kitchen, “Not before waxing beautiful poetry about your behind, though.”

The comment is made at an inappropriate time; Mingyu has his head inside a cupboard and his full-body laugh produces a loud _thud_ that echoes in the entire apartment. Wonwoo doesn’t really want to laugh at his boyfriend’s pain, but he can’t help it.

“You’re a terrible boyfriend,” Mingyu moans in pain from the kitchen floor, where Wonwoo can’t see the way his lips jut out in a pout.

“You love me, though, even when I laugh at you,” Wonwoo giggles.

“I will not either confirm or deny such accusation.”

Mingyu’s own apartment provided the couple with privacy they thought would only exist in their wildest dreams. Of course, the walls are stupidly thin, and the windows face the neighbor’s windows, but the small apartment made them feel safer than in any other place. Once the curtains were drawn, the apartment became their own little world. It also felt amazing to be able to have sex wherever they wanted within the confines of Mingyu’s place, so that was another privilege they ended up having.

Before his wedding, Wonwoo would visit every other day, bringing his books and his tired eyes, seeking comfort in Mingyu’s arms, in Mingyu’s voice, and in their shared little piece of the universe.

“You feel like home,” Wonwoo had uttered into his shoulder when Mingyu had asked about it, and then quieter, “You are my home.” And Mingyu had desperately wanted to joke about how cliché Wonwoo has sounded, saying such a thing in English, but the comment had brought tears to his eyes; Mingyu could only sniffle and nod while Wonwoo tightened his arms around him.

Mingyu didn’t attend Wonwoo’s and Elizabeth’s wedding as per Wonwoo’s request. It was partly because his parents had created a deep hatred for Mingyu but, despite that, the older couple insisted that Wonwoo invite him, if only to showcase how much happier he would be with a woman. Wonwoo had insisted that Mingyu not come because, if he attended the ceremony, it would make saying “I do,” to someone Wonwoo didn’t love harder than he was prepared for.

“I will come visit you as soon as I can,” Wonwoo had promised against Mingyu’s lips the night before the ceremony and showed up at his doorstep again nearly two weeks later.

His skin looks tanner but Mingyu has never seen his eyes look sadder. Mingyu wants to be irritated, wants to be mad at Wonwoo for taking so fucking long, but all he can bring himself to do is opening up his arms and feeling the weight of Wonwoo’s body crashing against his chest.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” Mingyu offers weakly when Wonwoo’s arms return the tight hug. Wonwoo takes a deep breath, “I went to fuckin—California of all places,” he breathes a laugh against Mingyu’s shoulder. “I couldn’t escape from the sun, it was horrible.”

Mingyu almost laughs. He _wants_ to laugh, but a spine-chilling, horrible thought comes to mind, and he needs to ask, “Did—did you two—?”

“Fuck?” Mingyu cringes at the word while Wonwoo huffs a laugh. Wonwoo shakes his head, still nestled in the crook of Mingyu’s neck, “I couldn’t do it,” he admits quietly and Mingyu allows himself to breathe out a sigh of relief. “Elizabeth was a good sport about it.”

This time, Mingyu does laugh. He tightens his hug and inhales deeply, letting Wonwoo’s familiar scent fill his lungs. Wonwoo smells like _home_. “How much time do you have before you have to go back to your house?”

“I can stay until after midnight. She won’t care if I’m gone longer, but her parents are visiting early in the morning.”

Mingyu hums, pulling away just enough to look his boyfriend in the eyes. They still look sad, but less so. “Let me make you dinner, then. Something so Korean you won’t even taste the white people food tomorrow.”

A small smile pulls at the corners of Wonwoo’s lips; he trails behind Mingyu while he walks into the kitchen, “I won’t taste it either way.”

Once Mingyu has made coffee and brought two full mugs to the side-table by the windowsill, he settles back against the soft pillows and lets Wonwoo find a comfortable position. They have made it through another three chapters when Wonwoo suddenly closes the book, producing a small unhappy noise from Mingyu in the process.

“Hey, that scene was good,” Mingyu whines; he watches Wonwoo’s careful movements as he sets the book beside their now-empty mugs and turns his body to face Mingyu. His eyes are sharp and serious and, for a moment, Mingyu is scared. “What is going on?” He asks in a small voice. Mingyu’s tone seems to alert Wonwoo of his own expression and he tries to soften it a little, reaching for his boyfriend’s hands and holding them gently. It doesn’t ease Mingyu’s mind in the slightest, “My love, you’re scaring me a little.”

“What? No, no…” Wonwoo rushes to reassure him, “I just—I wanted to ask if you –“ he inhales deeply, “—if you think we will ever be at peace while—you know…being together.”

Mingyu’s features soften into a near pout; he turns his hands around to interlace his fingers with Wonwoo’s and leans over slightly so his face is mere inches from his boyfriend’s. After a moment of thought, he leans all the way over and lets their foreheads touch. From this up close, he can see Wonwoo’s pores, the small smile lines forming near his mouth, and the short eyelashes that curl ever so gently from his eyes. God, he loves Wonwoo so much.

“I don’t think we will have that in this lifetime,” Mingyu answers quietly and sincerely, and feels more than he sees Wonwoo nod. “But—” he amends, “We still have each other, here and now. In my opinion, this is much better than anything else I could ask for.”

A beat of silence. Then, Wonwoo huffs out a laugh, “God, you’re cheesy,” and leans the rest of the way in to press their lips together in a chaste kiss. Mingyu is smiling widely when they part, and Wonwoo can’t stop himself from mirroring the expression.

“But you love me?”

“That’s debatable.”

“Yeah, you love me.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! comments and criticisms are always welcome! i'm always on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/PeachHoonie), too  



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